Page 12 of His Prize

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It isn’t a serious offer. It isn’t even his decision. Leo, while a narcissistic pain in my ass, would give me the girl if I asked for her. Or I could just take her, but I don’t want to be that kind of don.

I’m overthinking this. Do I even want her?

Yeah, little bit. Not to marry, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about fucking her again in the days since the funeral.

Or maybe I just don’t want Paolo to have her.

Either way.

“How generous of you,” I settle on. I drink more brandy and fold the next few hands, this time looking at my cards. I don’t have enough chips to be fucking around anymore, and I’ve drank too much to trust my judgement on anything less than a solid win.

A half hour passes before I get that hand.

My cards are face down on the table when the flop is revealed. I’ve seen what my hand is and don’t plan on looking again. Pocket queens. The flop is a nine, a queen, and a jack. Anyone who bets is probably hoping for a straight.

Luca bets two hundred and Blade raises four. I look at the table again. Two suits are clubs. Is one of them hoping for a flush?

I call and so does Paolo. Armani is out.

Cassandra deals the turn. Five of hearts.

“Check,” Luca says.

Blade knocks his knuckles on the table. I follow suit.

Paolo bets ten thousand.

I turn my head toward him. He’s trying to have a blank face, a true poker face, but he’s never able to hold the smugness in. You’d think it’d be a dead giveaway that he’s got a good hand, but he does it when he’s losing as well. Bastard can’t help himself.

Luca folds immediately, and Blade takes his time thinking about it. I don’t take my eyes off Paolo.

He’s not betting on a meager flush or straight draw. It would be too risky, too stupid.Maybehe has three of a kind, or more likely two pairs, but that isn’t enough for a ten thousand dollar bet. I have the highest three of a kind on the board, the current winning hand, and I didn’t plan on betting until I saw the next card.

This isn’t about having the winning hand.

This is about intimidating the other players.

As I’ve already said before, I refuse to get shoved out. I’d rather lose. Or better yet, teach a lesson.

Blade tentatively calls, and I toss my chips in after him.

Cassandra deals the last card. It’s another five. The straight busted, as did the flush. And unless Paolo’s sporting pocket fives, I’ve just won the hand.

It’s Blade’s move first, and he checks.

Next is me, and I’m torn over it. If he doesn’t bet, it will be a waste to have only taken his ten grand. But if he does, I can really hurt him.

“Check.”

Paolo studies me, his hands grazing over his chips. Without taking his eyes off me, he pushes all of his chips forward a couple of inches. “All in.”

“Fuck,” Blade protests. He flings his cards on the table and folds.

I take a deep breath and survey my chips. I’ve only got about three thousand dollars left. Not nearly enough to do the damage I want.

But it isn’t money I want anyway, is it?

“Tell you what,” I begin, tapping my fingers on the table and lifting my eyes to meet his. “I don’t have nearly enough chips to make this interesting, so I’ll raise you one hundred thousand, cash. I’m good for it.” I wink and Armani muffles a laugh.


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